The Power of Blood Supernatural Latest Sex stories

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Latest stories Supernatural The Power of Blood

Beginning in ancient history, layers of myths have been wrapped around the truth about my kind; darkest mysteries and unspeakable horrors have been whispered in the darkness of the night until nobody living was able to discern truth from lie, and now only the mention of our name brings fear and nightmares.
It is that fear that cloaks the nature of our existence and keeps us safe, keeps me safe.
The Principis, they used to call us, the first, the founders.
But today, they call us vampires, blood suckers, the undead.
I throw back my head and laugh, tears leaking into my eyes, and put down the cheap vampire novel I had ordered through the internet.
I can only take so many hypnotized humans, stakes through the heart and cross-wiggling, garlic-hung heroes before my tummy aches too much.
“You’re not reading another one, Janice?” Griselda inquires from high above me.
“They’re better than ten TV comedies together,” I state, a little defensive, even though I should know that she’s only teasing.
“Are you going to spend all evening up there?” “Don’t know yet.
That depends.
” The old wrought iron chandelier sways gently back and forth, and she giggles.
I can’t see her face.
It’s covered by her pink skirt, which, in her upside-down position, exposes all of her neatly shave slit, but it’s – and I chuckle when I notice how fitting the image is – beneath Griselda to care for such trivia.
“Depends on what?” I ask, pouring myself another glass of Merlot and wondering if someone turned up the heating.
Then I take a sip; the disappointment that the red liquid isn’t blood hits my taste buds like a storm wave, and I know that it isn’t the heating.
“Whether you’re hungry enough.
” One of her pointy ears wiggles.
My jaw clenches.
“I’ve got quite some time until I need to feed,” I lie through my teeth.
I can already feel the heat rise between my legs.
Griselda is not an idiot, and she has the same accurate sense of smell as I.
I don’t even know why I bother.
“Well, five minutes can be quite some time,” she tells me with obviously fake conviction and jumps down onto the low mahogany table, the fabric of her pink summer dress rushing through the air and settling immaculately around her lithe, pale body.
She’s been practicing that for decades.
“I want to watch you.
” Her cherry-red lips pout sweetly.
I turn my face away from her, feeling another kind of heat spread there.
“Feeding is intimate for me,” I protest.
“It’s not something that needs witnesses.
” Even while I speak, I fumble with my cellphone.
Now that I’ve acknowledged the hunger, it roars to life like a wild beast and makes my fingers shake.
“Where are you going to meet?” “I won’t tell you!” I snap back, ignoring the hasted typos that are staring at me, and press ‘send’.
“Oh, the clinic.
How kinky!” Sometimes, she annoys me greatly.
But she’s the only one I have, and I can already feel the other hunger rise, the by-product, the secret, the part of me that, if it ever became common knowledge, would be my undoing.
Griselda has hitched up the front of her skirt and rubs her full pussy.
It’s shiny with moisture, and it looks incredibly yummy.
Tiny, squishy sounds betray her arousal.
The hunger surges, but I can’t, mustn’t.
It isn’t what I need.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” I tell her and slip on the dark robes.
It’s only two miles to the clinic, two miles through a nighttime forest devoid of humans and temptation.
The shrubbery flies by, as clear to my eyes as if it was bright daylight.
The hunger does that to me, heightens my senses – but not for long before it becomes overwhelming.
I have to hurry.
I jump onto the stone wall and crouch down.
There are no guards, but you never know when a patient feels like walking outside in the middle of the night.
It’s quiet.
The crickets have burrowed deep into the earth again, hiding from the chilly fogs of late autumn, and the few lights behind the windows are dimmed.
My heart begins to beat faster and I slide down onto the grass to make my way towards my meal.
The old oaken door with its interwoven ornaments swings back easily, to easily for a human hand.
I’m not human, not completely.
Not anymore.
Not for centuries.
Through these centuries, I have learned to move without sound, to close doors without anyone becoming the wiser, and in the blink of an eye I’m at the bottom of the basement stairwell.
Behind the door to my left, I smell excitement, arousal, and my hand starts to tremble, but I turn right instead, like I always do.
She’s waiting.
Naked, beautiful, imposing, that’s how she appears, tinged in the soft, warm light of the dimmed bulb she resides on the massive wooden chair like on a throne.
She didn’t care about all that, in the beginning, she just did it to please me, to play to my needs, to bind me to her.
Now, though, as she sits like a goddess waiting to be worshipped, black, sleek hair falling down to her waist, eyes and lips painted dark, her nipples are erect and her chest heaves.
I can smell her arousal so intensely as if I was bathing in it.
There is no need for words.
I fall to my knees, the iron door snapping shut behind me, and the need pulls me towards her on all fours.
I moan, whimper, and my eyes focus on the object of desire, on the clean-shaven slit between her thighs.
She spreads her legs wide in anticipation, and we both shudder with want at the same time.
“Beautiful,” I whisper through a throat that constricts and feels like sandpaper.
“So incredibly beautiful!” A tear born from unfathomable desire streaks down my cheek.
She still doesn’t speak.
She doesn’t need to.
I look up into her eyes while I lean close.
Her lips are parted in an impatient pout.
Her fingers dig into my scalp and tighten.
It hurts, yes, but so good.
I extend my tongue.
My body trembles all over.
Now! I lick a slow trail upwards through her rosy, wet, warm folds, feel the blood rush underneath that sacred place, and my heart tries to burst.
Her arome coats my tongue and the monster in me roars to life with such power that time stops around us.
Like switchblades, my canins extend, and I bury them in her pussy lips.
There’s a sharp gasp – there always is – then she throws back her head and screams in ecstasy.
Power rushes into me, sating me, filling me, and a clarity settles over me that has no second.
My heart beats slowly, swoosh, then what feels like minutes pass by before I feel another swooshing beat.
Online Now! Lush Cams MiraElmers She, Miranda, writhes in pleasure while she gifts me with the power of her blood.
I start to feel light-headed suddenly, and I fight against the hunger that never really stops.
I pull out my teeth and time returns to normal.
My chest heaves and my breath rasps.
Miranda slumps forward, her fingers still buried in my hair, and fights to get back her breathing.
We both stare at each other, me, my one hunger now sated but another growing steadily, and she, blissful, almost ethereally beautiful.
She lets go of my hair and cups my cheek.
“That was lovely,” she whispers.
“I hate what comes now.
” “Don’t lie to me, please,” I growl softly and rub my cheek against her palm.
“Really, I do.
” She lifts my face up by my chin.
“I didn’t, at first.
Now, though… now I’d love nothing more than have you between my legs all day, every day, have you lick me and bite me in my most sensitive spots.
” I close my eyes and blush deeply.
She knows too well what such sweet-talk does to me.
She also knows that I love Griselda, that my world revolves around her – but that sweet, adorable Griselda, with all her half-fairy power, could never still my hunger.
And hunger surges again, ferocious and consuming.
It starts in my loins, setting free a flame that burns with more desire than any human could imagine.
It spreads all through me, all over me, and my nipples harden until they are screaming with want.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
“Quick!” Like lightning, Miranda is out of her chair and pulling me through the door, across the narrow hallway and into the next room – that room.
They are waiting already.
Bright lights shine from all corners and make me blink.
A huge bed sits in the middle, covered with blood red satin, how symbolic.
Cameras whirr, and I am pushed onto the bed, flop down on my back and hear the monster inside me scream with delight.
Three, four, five men encircle me, all of them tall and muscular, with chests and arms like chiseled from marble, but more importantly, naked and with iron-hard rods pointing into my direction.
I arch my back, spreading my legs as far as I can and running my hands lewdly over my crotch.
“Fuck me!” I yell, hearing my throaty, needy voice like that of a stranger, but they take their time coming closer.
“Fuck me!” My demand turns into a plea.
“Fuck me, now, please!” Then they are all over me, tearing at my clothes and pulling them away in shreds.
Their fingernails scratch my skin, but I spur them on.
I’m naked.
My juices run down between my thighs and into my ass crack like a river.
I’m hoisted up and one of them lies down underneath me, then strong hands guide me until I feel a thick, hard, hot cock press against my opening.
My knees come to rest next to his chest.
It explodes between my thighs, like a lance of fire spearing upwards and taking my breath away.
The hands let go.
I could hold myself up, easy slowly down on the huge spear of flesh, but I don’t need that.
Time slows again while I relax my legs and let my whole weight impale me with his cock.
I come, hard, screaming, but it’s just the start.
Another cock presses against my bumhole.
It’s dirty, depraved, unspeakably wicked.
It’s exactly what I need right now, what the monster in me needs.
He has gotten the hint, and he pushes his lubed cock inside without pause.
My voice breaks.
I’m delirious with pleasure.
The start to move, and like well-acquainted dancers, we easily fall into a rhythm.
Another cock touches my lips and welcome it, twirling my tongue around it, sucking it in deeply.
Moans and grunts start to fill the air.
Cameras go in and out of focus.
I’m coming, coming, never really stopping.
At some point, I’m riding another cock in my bum while getting fucked in my pussy by the biggest cock I’ve ever had and being face-fucked by a third.
I’m coated with cum and drool, and I feel my pussy and ass get sore, but I’m still riding the waves of pleasure.
The cock in my mouth pulses and shoots cum deeply down my throat.
I swallow greedily, revelling in the moans from its bearer.
* * * * Sometime later, maybe hours, I stir awake.
It’s almost dark inside, and silent.
I groan.
My pussy’s burning.
My nipples are rubbed raw, or bitten raw, or whatever.
But I’m sated and more contented than I have in a long time.
“Ow,” I complain quietly when I bring my legs together and feel a cramp in my thigh.
“You had quite the time there,” Miranda states from the shade in the corner.
Normally, I would have noticed her before I had even opened my eyes.
But now my senses are drunk from pleasure.
I’ll have to be careful on my way home.
“How long…” “Three hours, give or take a quarter.
You wore them out.
This one’s going to be a hit.
” I turn my face away, hating the way I blush, and even more hating the sexual beast I become each time my hunger for blood is sated.
I have tried to go without that carnality, locked myself in for days after feeding… “Don’t act coy.
You love that part.
You don’t fool me anymore.
” I stay silent because I would have to lie otherwise.
I did go without, could go without.
But, if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want to go without.
“I need to go home.
” * * * * I have no idea how she does it; have the camera team and guys here in mere fifteen minutes, I mean.
There aren’t many things that puzzle a vampire.
But then, I didn’t really care.
I did care that she was ready to feed me whenever I needed it, and that the sex afterwards was clean and intense.
I have no idea how she had figured it out either.
It had started with mysterious phone calls where she told me that she knew my secret, that she could help me out.
Of course, I played dumb.
Until she sent me newspaper clipping titled, ‘Public Sex Offenders Arrested, Female Vanished,” accompanied by a long letter.
My mind always wanders into that same territory when I’m on my way home and the guilt about keeping that secret from Griselda resurfaces.
Yes, Miranda makes a living from the movies, and at first, the idea sounded absolutely crazy – keeping my affliction a secret by starring in porn movies.
But the only person who matters is lesbian through and through and not likely to ever see one of these.
One day, I’ll have to confess.
But I pray that day will be far in the future.
* * * * Griselda is already asleep, naked as always, a perfect porcelain doll, and I slip in behind her and spoon her, pulling her close.
“Hey,” she whispers sleepily.
“All went well?” She kisses my palm and snuggles closer.
“Yes,” I whisper back, wrapping my arm tightly around her.
“I love you, my Princess.
” “Love you too.



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